Chapter 28
Bill took Sake home to his apartment, brewed her some tea, and put her to bed, holding her close for a long while until at last she fell asleep with a face still tear-stained. Now he stood over her, marveling at the blackness of her hair strewn across his white pillowcase. He’d fantasized having her in his bed countless times, but not like this.
He didn’t feel a smidgeon of guilt over stealing her phone from her bag. He needed to look up Xavier’s cell phone number to fill him in on what he’d witnessed in the city and assure him his daughter was home safe, here in Napa. But when Xavier demanded Bill bring Sake back to Domaine St. Pierre immediately, Bill was prepared with a response.
“With all due respect, sir, Sake said she wants to stay here tonight. She’ll be home tomorrow.”
They’d talked it out the night before. All Sake’s hopes of a mother-daughter reunion had been shattered to bits. And with Rico nothing but a bad memory and the court hearing cancelled, the Bunz interview wasn’t nearly enough to coax her into returning to the city on her birthday.
Xavier considered Bill’s words. “You are a fine, decent man, Bill Diamond.”
A regular mensch. That’s what he wanted to be for Sake. Someone safe. Someone steady. Someone trustworthy.
And Bill knew exactly how he was going to prove it to her.
Sake was used to waking up in strange places. She took her time, letting her eyes adjust to her surroundings . . . past the nightstand where a long, thick white envelope leaned against the lamp, she saw an upholstered chair with an oxford shirt neatly draped over it. Through the slats of venetian blinds, leaves shimmered green and silver. She heard muted kitchen sounds. Then her nostrils caught the scents of cedar and bergamot, and she knew.
She stretched on a massive yawn, and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
From the kitchen, she heard the workaday call of “Taylor! Breakfast!” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. So this was Bill and Taylor’s morning routine. Though it had been going on for six weeks, she had yet to be there at that time of day, to witness it.
There was something she needed to do, first thing—alone. She looked up the number of the local sheriff.
She finished her call just in time to see a bare-chested Bill Diamond watching her, holding a coffee mug in one hand and in the other, an amateur-looking cupcake with a single, glowing candle stuck into it.
“Is what you just said true? You saw your father fill out his logbook the day of the helicopter crash?”
“Have you ever known me to lie?”
Bill gave her a sly, complicit look, then came and lowered himself beside her on the bed.
Smiling, she said, “You’ve got icing in your hair.” Her eyes skimmed over Bill’s toned torso, from his nicely-formed shoulders to his taut abs to where a line of tawny hair disappeared into his flannel pajama bottoms.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Sake, happy birthday to you. Make a wish.”
She knew exactly what she wished for. She took a breath, then blew out the flame. Wasting no time, she bit into his feeble but honest attempt at baking.
“What’s it taste like?”
“Diabetes,” she replied around a mouthful of cake.
Bill rocked back, laughing. “So, better than it looks, then.”
With a second bite, she asked, “When did you . . . ?”
“Last night, after you went to sleep. Found a recipe online. Here.” He doubled up the pillows behind her. “You don’t have to get up yet. It’s your birthday. You can sleep in if you want.”
Sinking back into them, licking her lips, she eyed his coffee cup. “Got any more of that?”
“Sure do. Want some?”
“I’m ill-suited for sleeping in.”
“Be right back.”
He returned with a matching mug and crawled back under the covers next to her.
“I must’ve been hungry.”
“You went to bed without your supper.” Their eyes met in unspoken acknowledgement of all that had gone down the day before.
“Let’s not think about that today. It’s your birthday. Today you get anything you want.” When he took another drink of coffee, Sake noticed yet more icing along the edge of his palm.
“I can’t imagine what the kitchen looks like,” she mused. “You got this stuff all over you.” She brought his hand up to her mouth.
Bill watched, mesmerized, while she slowly, deliberately licked the icing off his hand. His well-intended smile ebbed away.
When her job was finished she transferred her attention to the center of Bill’s palm, planting in it a lingering, wet, kiss, ending with a swirl of her tongue.
Then she lay down on her side next to him and slipped her bare leg between his flannel-clad ones, hooking a foot around his ankle.
“Thanks.” She cupped his cheek, putting her thumb over his dimple. “Thanks for everything.”
His breath caught when she slid her hand down his side, running her finger around the inside of the elastic on his PJs.
“You don’t owe me anything, you know.” His voice came out strangled.
“This isn’t about that.” She kissed his mouth.
After that, there were no more words. Skin to skin, from the most tentative caress to the boldest thrust, tapering off only to crown again and yet again, their bodies choreographed what words couldn’t say.
When Sake woke again, the room looked somehow the same, yet different. From the shade of the walls, it must be midday. But that wasn’t the only weird thing. Then she realized: she was upside down in the bed.
From the direction of her feet she heard a deeply satisfied male voice croak, “You’re crazy.”
“Where are you?” She giggled.
“Up here.”
She fought her way back through the impossible tangle of sheets, once again breathless. “Are you complaining?”
“No, ma’am.” He cupped her head and kissed her swollen lips.
“Are you going to open your present now?”
“I thought you just gave me my present.”
He propped an elbow on his pillow and laughed, showing his straight white teeth. “And here I thought I was the recipient. I meant this one.” He reached across her to the nightstand for the envelope.
“Open it.”
She pulled out what looked like an official document.
“The rest of the world has gone digital. All except real estate. We’re still up to our eyeballs in paperwork.”
“Offer to Purchase?” she read out loud.
Then she read the address aloud. “Three Elm Street.” A thought occurred to her. “In Japan, odd numbers are lucky.”
“And today you turn twenty-three. The seller gave me a verbal acceptance. There’re just the formalities to go through, and I should be moved in by fall.”
Sake sensed Bill’s satisfaction as concretely as the walls and the floor that surrounded them.
Ping!
“That’ll be your father. I called him last night. He’s probably wondering why you haven’t come home yet.”
Home. The word conjured up a collage of unrelated images. What did a real home feel like? All Sake knew was what it didn’t feel like. She’d lived in so many places she couldn’t even list them all. She envied Bill, who knew without a doubt that he wanted to live at 3 Elm Street, and her sisters. Even during their time away at school, the winery had always been their North Star. And on top of all that, she felt guilty for being envious.
She peered up at him from her pillow. “It sounds so thankless, but the winery doesn’t feel like home to me.”
“Maybe home isn’t a building,” said Bill, playing with a strand of her hair. “Maybe it’s finding your place in the world. Not just where you lay your head at night, but everything. Who you’re with, what you’re doing . . . all those things coming together in the right place and time.”
She slipped the idea on, and it fit perfectly, like a cozy sweater in her favorite color. Without her mind knowing why, her body relaxed deeper into the mattress. A restlessness that had agitated her insides for as long as she could remember stilled.
“You don’t sound like no Realtor.”
Grinning, he kissed the tip of her nose. “I know. Keep that advice to yourself, or my reputation’ll be toast.”
Ping!
“I told your papa everything. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
“Hardly,” she huffed. “You spared me the agony.”
“Hey.” He looked around. “You seen Taylor?”
“I thought I heard you feeding her breakfast.”
“I called, but I don’t think she ever came.”
Sake got out of bed and started looking around, calling Taylor’s name.
“This place isn’t big enough for her to have gone far.” Bill went to the living room, Sake the bathroom.
There, atop one of Bill’s good bath towels in the tub, lay Taylor . . . and that wasn’t all.
Sake squealed. “Bill! Come in here! Quick!”